Andrew the Glad

"Don't you see, Major, don't you see, he tried to make a play to the

masses of protecting the city's property and the city's law and order,

but he jumped into a hornet's nest? We managed to keep it all out of the

morning paper but something is sure to creep in. Hadn't we better have a

conference with the editors?" Tom was a solid quantity to be reckoned

with in a stress that called for keenness of judgment rather than

emotion.

"Ask them for a conference in the editorial rooms of the _Gray Picket_ at

two-thirty, Tom," answered the major. "In the meantime I'll draft an

editorial for the special edition. We must come out with it in the

morning at all odds."

In a few moments the echo of their steps over the polished floors and the

ring of their voices had died away and the major was once more alone in

his quiet library. He laid aside his books and drew his chair up to the

table and began to make preparations for his editorial utterances. His

rampant grizzled forelock stood straight up and his jaws were squared and

grim. He paused and was in the act of calling Jeff to summon Phoebe over

the wire when the curtains parted and she stood on the threshold. The

major never failed to experience a glow of pride when Phoebe appeared

before him suddenly. She was a very clear-eyed, alert, poised

individuality, with the freshness of the early morning breezes about her.

"My dear," he said without any kind of preliminary greeting, "what do you

make of the encounter between David Kildare and Julge Taylor? The boys

have been here, but I want your account of it before I begin to take

action in the matter."

"It was the most dastardly thing I ever heard, Major," said Phoebe

quietly with a deep note in her voice. "For one moment I sat stunned. The

long line of veterans as I saw them last year at the reunion, old and

gray, limping some of them, but glory in their bright faces, some of them

singing and laughing, came back to me. I thought my heart would burst at

the insult to them and to--us, their children. But when David rose from

his chair beside me I drew a long breath. I wish you could have heard him

and seen him. He was stately and courteous--and he said it _all_. He

voiced the love and the reverence that is in all our hearts for them.

It was a very dignified forceful speech--and _David_ made it!" Phoebe

stood close against the table and for a moment veiled her tear-starred

eyes from the major's keen glance.

"Phoebe," he said after a moment's silence, "I sometimes think the world

lacks a standard by which to measure some of her vaster products. Perhaps

you and I have just explored the heart of David Kildare so far. But a

heart as fine as his isn't going to pump fool blood into any man's

brain--eh?"